This is Twisted
by Shaded
Summary: Everything was going to the dumps, and then, well, life got even more twisted. What happens when a rebellious teenager gets mixed up with those posh people from the 1870's. To put it lightly: All hell breaks loose.
1. Chapter 1

--------- Prelude ---------

Damn, damn, damn! Zoey crawled over a rotten log, covering her cargo's with green slime. What was she doing out here? What was she even doing in Colorado. The answer was so simple that Zoey felt it was unfair, nothing this horrible feeling should be so un-complex. Stumbling through the heavy undergrowth of bushy trees, heavy hair straggling over her shoulders and into her eyes, Zoey wasn't exactly a picture of composure. She had lost anything that even related to calm two weeks ago, when her world had been thrown into hell.

"Who lives in Colorado? She muttered angrily to herself. Shitty wilderness, nothing but mud, trees and oh yes, more trees, a few grassy plains stuck along in there. The worst place she'd ever been in, she'd hated it even since she'd came here.

Tripping over a stray branch Zoey cursed under her breath, hating the air she was breathing. So frantic a state was she in that she didn't even notice the shadowy form that rose before her in the darkening evening. "Shit!" She yelled out incoherently, not sure who exactly she almost stepped into. Taking a second to regain any semblance of order she scanned the man over. Were those buckskin pants? Shirtless, black hair tied into braids. Her eyes moving upwards Zoey recognised him as a native. What the hell... A native dressed up like that. Some guy had a sense of humour. But still, what was he doing here. Wasn't this her Aunt's property?

Her first impulse was to turn and run, who knew who the guy was? But something stopped her and she took a second longer to stand there, staring at the outlandish figure in front of her, that oddly enough, didn't seem to be out of place. Trying a different approach she opened her mouth, her voice coming out unsteady.

"Uh, Sorry, didn't see you there. Is this the Reliegh's property?" She didn't think she'd overstepped their land but still.. It was better to be safe instead of cussing out the dude out when it might not even be her Aunt's property. There was no response as those piercing black eyes regarded he stoically. Quickly tiring of that game, patience already stressed, Zoey growled. "Hey, you deaf?" She didn't anticipate what happened next and when the man stepped quickly forward, arms outstretched Zoey dodged to the right. "What the hell!" She yelled. She didn't see another figure rise up from behind her, and definitely see the heavy object that swung down on her head.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking... That was always the nasty part. The throbbing head, blurry vision, the worst part of it all. Zoey groaned, her voice expressing her discomfort with alacrity. It took a moment to clear the coloured spots dancing before her eyes, took a moment to push back the wave of nausea that resulted from an overwhelming pain in her head and neck. After that moment Zoey inhaled, a long slow breath and then began cursing in a long steady string of obscenities. She didn't stop even when the door of the log-cabin she was currently housed in opened. Didn't stop when a man came striding across the small expanse of floor to stand over her. She finally did stop when she ran out of air, pausing long enough to take a breath.

She was lying on a thin sort of cot in a relatively bare cabin with very rustic and rudimentary pieces of trapping equipment laying here and there. There were no sign of running water or any modern facilities to speak of. The only entrance to the cabin was a door the one the man had come in by.

Zoey was frightened. Plainly terrified. She didn't know where she was, her last memory was meeting up with someone from a costume party and then being assaulted by an unknown from behind. All in all it didn't lead to any bright and cheerful conclusions as to where she was now. In fact, all in all it lead to some rather dreadful and disturbing assumptions as to where she was now. But assumptions were assumptions and conclusions were conclusions and Zoey didn't have much basis for anything beyond the fact that she was scared.

Fear tends to do quite of number of different things to various people. Panic is usually a basic instinct that fear instills, a thing that Zoey had had the gift of being absolved of. However, when Zoey was frightened she lost control, if she could ever be said to have any real amount of control, and when she lost it she lost it with a vengeance. Reason and prudence disappeared as if they were no more important than the dirt upon the ground.

They did so on this occasion, quite predictably and when the strange man stood tall and threatening over her she did the first thing that popped into her head. Cussed him soundly up and down, so thoroughly in fact that the fellow's jaw was hanging open by the time she had finished to take in air. If it was one thing that Zoey was proficient in it was swearing, she'd mastered the art to a perfection and knew how to string insulting words together in a way that was almost magical to listen too, if you were for that sort of thing of course.

Zoey was. The man over her was tall, tall and fair headed with a large raw-boned face. He couldn't have been much over twenty even though the planes of his face were hardened with experience. She might have thought him good looking if she'd taken the time to even consider such a thing but as it was she took no time to consider anything and after her 'bout of abuse she leaped to her feet and made a mad dash for the door. The dash must not have been entirely unexpected because the man moved quickly, not seeming to be much surprised. Smoothly blocking the door he easily secured Zoey's wrists twisting them behind her back in a way that made movement or struggle painful, therefore to be avoided. Chest heaving Zoey did the next thing that popped into her head, collapsed like a wet noodle. That move was unexpected and the man staggered as he suddenly was left supporting her entire weight. His moment of unbalance was all that was needed and with a triumphant yell Zoey broke free reaching the door she was just moving to open it when it slammed inwards towards her, hitting her head and knocking her clean off her feet and onto the floor of the cabin. Rolling painfully Zoey grabbed her head in both hands.

"This really isn't my day." She moaned agonizingly muttering whispered obscenities and no one on particular. It was then that the tears started, large puddles that made their way silently down her face to drip at an astonishing rate of speed onto her jacket. There are very few people who can get away with crying and looking decent at the same time, Zoey actually made it look good. Not only was her face composed but the red around her eyes actually enhanced a sort of mistreated and forlorn look that pasted itself to Zoey's pitiful little form. Remarkably within the space of only a few moments she had transferred herself from a swearing, struggling hell-hound to a hurt puppy who had obviously lost itself.

The door that had so abruptly opened admitted yet another man, his looks strikingly similar to the others. Zoey pulled her legs up until she was curled in a ball-like position, defensive to say the least. Large tear-drops still dripping indignantly from her nose she spluttered, "Wh-- Who are you and where am I?"

There was a moment's silence where the two men exchanged looks, unreadable to Zoey who was still perfecting the hurt expression on her face. Suddenly chuckling the first one made a sudden gesture with his hand it apparently meant something to the other who merely nodded.

"She doesn't know who she is."


End file.
